


and what was found there

by Zekkass



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Remix, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-04
Updated: 2014-03-04
Packaged: 2018-01-14 12:29:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1266634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zekkass/pseuds/Zekkass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony may be dosed with sex pollen, but that doesn't mean all of his facilities are gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and what was found there

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ifitwasribald](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifitwasribald/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Through the Looking Glass](https://archiveofourown.org/works/483058) by [ifitwasribald](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifitwasribald/pseuds/ifitwasribald). 



> I wrote this for the Avengers Remix challenge, and boy, what fun it was. Many thanks to legete for beta-ing it for me!
> 
> ifitwasribald, thanks for writing such a fun piece to remix. It's not a straight POV swap, there are some changes, so I hope you like them.

Tony twists on the bed, gripping at the sheets, beyond caring about his dignity. He's always beyond that point, but now in particular - his pulse is high in his ears, and he _needs._

It's hard to think. It's harder to think than it was a minute ago, which means it's getting worse. Fuck. At this rate, he'll lose coherency within fifteen minutes and _then_ where will he be?

Probably humping the bed and begging for someone, anyone to come in and fuck him.

He closes his eyes and drops his head to the sheet, trying not to groan. Fuck. Fuck. Whatever was in that pollen, whatever it's done to him, he needs a cure - and fast.

Which, yes, hello, he knows Pym is working on one, he knows SHIELD cares enough about his big beautiful brain to want him alive, he knows that Natasha's already gone off to fetch Bruce like he asked.

Bruce. Bruce, the man he most wants to see right now, for a variety of reasons, the biggest one being the way Bruce blushes and goes shy when he hits on him, but doesn't completely shut him down, doesn't say no. He wants - _needs_ \- him here, so he can bend him over this bed and take full advantage of how hospital gowns never shut in the back.

"Tony, I'm here." Bruce's voice is heaven-sent, and Tony jerks his head up from the sheets to stare at the mirror. "Natasha said...she said you asked for me."

Tony gets up, torn between the urge to plaster himself against the mirror and the urge to _strut_ , own this gown as if it's the hottest suit he owns. God, he can't see Bruce, but he knows Bruce's eyes must be practically glued to the window, and he wants to _see_ the blush that must be there.

He settles for a saunter and a smirk.

"Bruce, finally, about time you made it," he says. "I need you to come in here and fuck me."

Not...quite the first thing he wanted to say, but it's true, it's achingly true. He can hear Bruce's sharp little intake of breath, audible proof of interest. Thank _god._

"You've seen the data, right? You must have it. Pym's working on a cure, more analysis, the whole works, but right now I can tell you that _I need you._ And," Tony says, pausing for effect, "I want you to know this, you have my consent. I want you to have it while I'm still lucid. And not on my knees begging for your cock. Because I will beg for it. The intensity's been ramping up since I was dosed with that stuff, and let me tell you it is getting harder and harder not to picture your fingers in me."

Tony could keep going, could talk for hours about how badly he needs Bruce to come into the room and have his wicked way with him, but he stops himself with effort, tries to give Bruce a chance to talk to him. Tries not to focus too much on how hard his cock feels right now, how much he's trembling with the strain of keeping his hands at his sides.

"Are," there's a catch in Bruce's voice, "Are you certain that you can't take care of yourself?"

Absolutely a reasonable question. Absolutely. Tony's hand finds its way under the gown, palms his erection.

"I'm sure," he says, strained. "I gave it the old college try. But whatever's in that pollen, it...I _need_ you, Bruce. We can talk about what's in it after, please, after you get in here."

There's silence from the other side of the glass, disconcerting silence. Tony shouldn't rut into the palm of his hand, shouldn't assume that Bruce is still watching - he's probably not, he's probably preparing to let Tony down gently. Hell, he's probably going to bring up the Hulk, something about safety, but those are risks Tony is ready to take, hell - he'd throw himself into the Hulk's arms right about now if only he would just _fuck him already._

He begins to pace, tries not to talk, tries to wait and not beg and he keeps stroking his cock as he walks. It's not helping, it's not enough, he's biting his lip and something has to give.

"Tony," Bruce says, and the mirror turns into a window. Tony's eyes lock onto Bruce's face. He _is_ blushing, but his expression is serious, deadly serious. Tony's heart sinks, but Bruce goes on. "It's possible you'll...die, if I don't come in there."

Oh, thank god.

"Then get in here already," Tony says, coming closer to the glass, touching it, wishing he could touch Bruce already.

"You asked for me," Bruce says. "Even with the risk of the...other guy?"

"I trust you," Tony says without hesitation, pressing his palm to the glass, trying to focus, hips beginning to gyrate. He slides his hand off of his cock and back, cupping his balls, breathes. "God, Bruce, please. Please."

Bruce meets his eyes, and whatever resistance he'd been working on visibly crumples. "Okay," he says, getting up from the desk. "Wait for me."

As if Tony would do anything else - he nods, quick, wishes he could break the glass so he could just drag Bruce through.

The wait as Bruce goes from the observation room to the door and through is achingly long, enough time for Tony to get back to the bed, to throw his gown off and get back into bed. He shifts uncomfortably, waiting, just waiting, trying to find a comfortable position and hyperaware of how he’ll look to Bruce through the window. Without really realizing it, he slips two fingers into his mouth, slicking them with his tongue. The burn when he works into himself is good, but it could be so much better if Bruce -

The door slides open.

"Say you have lube," Tony says, spreading his legs, deliberately putting himself on display, watching how Bruce's pupils dilate - there's green, there. Green bleeding into the brown, Tony doesn't know if Bruce knows that's happening, isn't going to tell him because like hell is he going to let the Hulk cockblock him _now._

Bruce comes closer, unbuttoning his shirt as he does, dropping yellow fabric on the white floor, but Tony's focus is on the expanse of Bruce's skin, is on the pounding beat of his pulse, is on how close Bruce is now, practically leaning over him, holding his face with big blunt fingers that Tony tries to lick.

Bruce doesn't let him, holds his head steady as he kisses him. Tony whines into his mouth, hips jerking as he pulls his finger free, grabs at Bruce's sides and skitters his fingers over skin, and he needs more, more _more_ -

"Fuck me," he says as Bruce breaks the kiss, feels more than hears Bruce's 'no' against his lips. "No?"

Bruce leans further back, fumbles with his pants, puts a tube of lube in Tony's hand, followed by a condom. Oh. _Oh._

"It's safer this way," Bruce says after a pause, before he begins to undo his belt. His eyes are still green, but his hands are steady and Tony's not even paying attention, fumbling with the lube himself, eager to get himself into Bruce.

The condom rolls on easy, and he's so ready to just grab Bruce and push in, but Bruce catches his hands, forces him to slow down and actually use the opened lube.

"Fingers first," Bruce says, and okay, okay okay okay, this is perfect. He can do whatever Bruce wants as long as it leads to more contact, as long as hell yes he gets to put his fingers into Bruce and open him up and watch Bruce's face as he does it, gets to listen to Bruce hold back moans, and does that count as proof that Bruce's control is slipping? Should he be worried?

He decides not to worry up until Bruce actually starts turning green all over and uses more lube, presses a second finger in next to his first and groans as a sudden wave of heat rolls through him, obliterating his control. He shakes with need, thrusting his fingers in and out, and the moans coming from Bruce’s mouth? Better than a pornstar's.

"Tony - Tony, nng, you need to slow down - "

It's hard to even realize those are words, harder still to parse what they mean, and he gives up about the same time Bruce reaches under himself and pulls Tony's hand out. Even his denial is the hottest thing Tony's ever seen, because as red as Bruce looks, as needy as his little moans sound, he's in control when Tony's coming apart in his hands, desperate to have more of him.

Bruce pushes Tony back on the bed, leans over him and kisses him, hot and messy and he's still holding Tony's wrists.

If he talks when he lets up on the kiss, Tony can't hear it, his pulse thundering in his ears, the proximity of Bruce's face killing his focus.

Bruce adjusts his grip on Tony's wrists to one hand only, and it must be awkward with Tony shuddering in his grip, hips twitching, but somehow he gets the lube on his hand and Tony could come all over him when he realizes that Bruce is spreading himself.

"Please, please please please," Tony chants as he writhes under Bruce. "Please fuck me, Bruce, please, I need it - "

He's cut off by another kiss, harder this time, with teeth, and he moans into Bruce's mouth. His cock feels like it's fucking throbbing, and he needs to be fucked or to be fucking and he doesn't even know which, just that he sobs when Bruce finally pulls himself into position and guides Tony's cock into him.

It's perfect, it's not enough to keep him from thrusting up as hard as he can to get more, and Bruce is taking it all, biting his lip, and he's tight, perfectly tight. Tony tosses his head and shouts, wordless, unable to come to the phone.

Later he'll be embarrassed by how _fast_ it goes, how he gets fully into Bruce and thrusts twice and he's coming like a teenager in the backseat on prom night.

"Bruce - "

Bruce shakes his head, pulls off of Tony and stands by the bed, finally letting go of Tony's wrists. Tony finds himself hoping that his grip was hard enough to bruise.

"How are you feeling?" Bruce asks.

"Good," Tony says, with feeling. "Good enough to reciprocate - " He reaches for Bruce's hips, gets his wrists caught again.

"No, Tony," Bruce says. He sounds utterly aroused, but it’s the note of disappointment that cuts through the haze that Tony’s still floating in. "Not now."

"But you're," Tony indicates his erection, looks up at him.

"It wouldn't be safe," Bruce says. "And not now, Tony. We don't know if the drug's been flushed from your system yet."

"I can't give the guy who saved my life a blowjob?"

Bruce closes his still-green eyes and breathes in deeply, obviously fighting for control.

"Not...now, Tony," he says.

Tony perks a little. That's not a blanket no. "Later?"

Bruce nods. "Later."

Tony begins to sit up, and now Bruce steps back to find his clothes. He should lie down, definitely, and let Tony lick him clean, but Bruce said _later_.

It's weird how precise the pollen is - one orgasm in someone else, not into his own hand, and he feels better - and better means he's able to be patient again, and trust that the good things (like Bruce) will be worth waiting for.

Bruce buckles his belt and buttons his shirt and it's only when he's beginning to head for the door that Tony realizes he's leaving, and that's not good.

"You're not leaving, are you?"

Bruce turns back to him, brow furrowed.

"Yeah, come back here. Want you in bed with me."

"Tony, there _can't_ be a round two, not right now. I'm not sure it's fair to stay - "

"Not here, not now, I know that, come on." Tony pats the bed next to him and tries to look enticing without looking, well, _enticing_. He just wants a little skin-to-skin contact with Bruce, and that's not a crime, right? "I'll keep my hands off, I swear."

Bruce sighs and walks back to the bed, lying down next to him. Tony shifts until he's got his chin on Bruce's shirt and he's good and comfortable, and closes his eyes. Bruce is warm against his side and Tony can feel him relax by degrees until Bruce sighs again and puts an arm around him.

Perfect.


End file.
